


The Delusions of a Romanticist

by cheerfulmorgue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Creepy, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts, Paranormal, lol im bad at tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 00:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14032572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheerfulmorgue/pseuds/cheerfulmorgue
Summary: Sherlock is called to Sussex for a case that is connected to an old friend. Since John and Mary's baby has recently been born, John must stay in London. Sherlock instead brings his partner, Molly Hooper, with him to help with the case. The house they must rent in Sussex though, has Molly  terrified that people and animals may not be the only ones who haunt Sussex.





	The Delusions of a Romanticist

The house was a dull blue colour, faded from years and years without being touched up. The hedges in front of the house grew high, covering half of the two windows on either side of the white door. The grass at the front of the house was tall, some of which snaked over the pavement walk in front of the house. Molly knew she would have to do some cleaning and yard work if they were going to stay here for a year. White Willow trees surrounded the house, along with the other neighbourhood houses, creating something almost like a fence with their drooping leaves and branches. The tallest of them casted shadows over the house.

"Isn't it lovely?" Sherlock said as he proceeded to the door, pulling his black suitcase along behind him, creating a thud every time it hit a root that snaked its way from the ground the the cracks in the pavement.

Molly took in the looks of the house again, then began to follow behind Sherlock, the suitcase rolling behind her almost the same faded blue as their temporary home. "More like creepy, I'd say."

"Creepy?" Sherlock asked as he stopped in front of the door and turned to face her.

"Yeah, creepy," she said, reaching him and stopping, "I mean, look at it. It's so dark and everything is so overgrown. How long has it been vacant?"

"I'd say about a year and a half, though someone comes along to mow the lawn and do some other yard work every once and awhile."

"Right," Molly said, "still, it's creepy."

Sherlock let his suitcase roll back onto it's wheels to stand as he searched his pockets for the keys. "Just wait until you see the inside, you might love it."

"Is it less creepy than the outside?" Molly asked.

"How would I know?"

"Well, you saw the pictures online."

"Well, who knows from how long ago they were?" He pulled the keys out of one of his front pockets and held it in the air like it was something he had lost and replaced long ago, but found suddenly.

"You're right," Molly said, watching as Sherlock unlocked the door, "all of the rooms are probably empty."

"Yes, I believe they are." He turned back to her as he put the key back in his pocket. He put a hand on the doorknob and looked at her as if he were asking for permission to open it. "You ready?"

"Guess so."

"Right then. Here goes nothing."

He opened the door slowly with a creek, then reached his arm out to feel the wall for a lightswitch. When he found it, he switched it and the lights in the sitting room slowly turned on, the lightens going from very dim to just dim in a sixty seconds. Light bulbs, it seemed, needed to be replaced as well. The vacant room seemed so small, yet quite large, and oh so very dark.

"I guess daylight doesn't reach this room well," Sherlock said, closing the door behind the two of them as they stepped in.

Though her steps were light, the hardwood floor thudded and creaked beneath Molly's feet. She feared for a second that she might fall through. "If it's this dark when it's sunny, how's it going to be when it gets dark?"

"I guess we'll find out in a few hours." Sherlock walked further into the room and leaned his suitcase against the wall, which seemed to be a dark sort of crimson colour. "John and Mary should be here in a couple of hours with the rest of our portable things, but until then, how about we check out the rest of the house?"

"Fine," Molly said, "but the first ghost I see will make me  _go home_  with John and Mary." She set her suitcase next to the detective's, then followed him through the hall.

The whole first floor seemed to be unnaturally small. Though the couple didn't need much room, they had hoped it would be larger. Each room was just as dim and dreary as the first, the bathroom being worse seeing as it had no windows. All in all, the first floor contained the sitting room, a bathroom, the kitchen, and two small rooms, one of which would become an office and the other the laundry room.

The two soon stood at the bottom of the stairs to the second floor. Molly looked up into the darkness, wishing that there was a light switch at the bottom of the stairs instead of at the top.

Sherlock looked over at her, a grin on his lips. "What? Are you afraid of the dark?"

"Are you not?"

"Of course not."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Of course not. After all, you're just one great big manly man, aren't you?"

"Of course I am." He began to take the steps, each stair creaking beneath his feet.

Molly followed, trying not to listen to the creaking beneath her own feet. Halfway up the stairs, Sherlock let out a shocked breath and jumped back a step, almost causing Molly to fall, as he smacked the wall with the back of his hand.

"A big manly man who's afraid of spiders?" She grinned.

"I wasn't afraid..." Sherlock said, looking back at her, "just a bit surprised."

"Sure, you weren't scared."

They began walking again and Molly began to feel shivers up her spine as the stairs steepened and the area became darker. Finally, they reached the top and Sherlock flicked on the lights, and the two stood side by side at the top. There was a door in front of them and two doors to their sides. The walls had chipped wooden trim climbing halfway up it and the rest of the walls were filled in with faded green wallpaper, peeling slightly in the corners. A light, but putrid smell came from one of the rooms and Sherlock and Molly looked at each other in unison as the smell reached them.

Molly put a hand over her nose and mouth. Her voice was muffled as she said, "Does the landlord  _ever_  come and clean?"

Sherlock sniffed the air, his eyes shifting around as he searched for it's source. "Bigger than a rat."

"God." Molly took her hand away from her mouth. "How long has it been here?"

"We'll find out once we find it." Sherlock followed the growing smell into what was the upstairs bathroom. Molly followed, and sighed when she saw the animal in the bathtub.

"Looks like I'll be doing some extreme cleaning," Molly said.

Sherlock stepped closer to it. "It's been dead for about two weeks, I'd say."

"Darling, why have you rented this place. Couldn't we have rented a nicer one?  _Any_  other one?" Molly pouted and looked up at the detective.

"This one was the closest I could find to her."

Molly couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy when he mentioned her. She always had been jealous of her, even when she had no business to be, with her engagement and all.

Sherlock cocked his head, his eyes softening. "Molly Hooper, you've no need to envy her."

"Who says I envy her?"

"You do." He placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. "Besides, after seeing how I treated her I can hardly see how you could believe I have feeling towards her."

"You do."

"No, I don't."

"Sherlock," Molly said, "I saw the way that you used to look at her. Even though it was a short amount of time, I know you feel...felt something for her."

"So what if I did, you saw how that turned out, didn't you?"

"Can we get out of here?" Molly asked quickly, "This smell-"

"Yes, of course." He dropped his hand from her shoulder and took her hand in his. "Come, then." He led her back downstairs. As they reached the bottom, they heard a knock on the door. "Speak of the devil." Sherlock approached the door and opened it.

She stood there, her dark, wavy hair falling over her shoulders, a smile across her lips. "Pleasure to see you again, Mr Holmes." Her smile dropped and sniffed the air. "Shite. What is that appalling smell?"

"Good evening, Janine."

"Been awhile..." She leaned forward and looked about the vestibule. "Inviting me in?"

"Yes, please do come in." Sherlock and Molly stepped aside, allowing Janine Hawking to enter, closing the door behind her.  


End file.
